


Ethereal

by haruonlyswimsfree



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:18:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8502226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haruonlyswimsfree/pseuds/haruonlyswimsfree
Summary: Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.-|-oikawa reflection/iwaoi ff





	

Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.  
  
Oikawa Tooru was beautiful, but not in the ways you would think.  
  
He was not beautiful in the way his provocative choices of clothing hugs his fit body in all the right ways.  
  
He was not beautiful in the blindingly white smiles he flashed wherever he graced those around him with his presence.  
  
He was not beautiful in the flirtatious winks his tawny eyes did out of pure instinct, whether intentional or not.  
  
He was not beautiful in the feather-light taps and prods of his graceful setter’s fingers.  
  
He was not beautiful in the dry, amused chuckles he so frequently used on his annoyingly adoring fangirls.  
  
He was not beautiful in the shadows of smirks that flit across his plush pink lips, nor in the playful quips that flowed from his melodic voice.  
  
Oikawa Tooru was more than that; more than a mere image of aestheticism, more than a show put on for other’s enjoyment.  
  
He was ethereal.  
  
He was beautiful in the way his eyelashes fluttered against his prominent cheekbones when he cried.  
  
He was beautiful in the rare genuine smile he showed only a few people, soft and rough around the edges at the same time, like a gemstone.  
  
He was beautiful in his eyes crinkling when he laughed, the sound that trickled from his perfect vocal cords being the vocal embodiment of happiness.  
  
He was beautiful in his untouched porcelain skin, unblemished by the harsh reach of the world, pinking in a delicate flush when he was flustered or excited.  
  
He was beautiful in the flecks of gold lining his irises, sparkling with a youthful glow.  
  
He was beautiful in his dancing to a melancholy song, alone in his room after a lost match, fighting off the tears he was so accustomed to hiding, and he was beautiful in his hums and skips and trills he subconsciously did when he was with his childhood best friend.  
  
Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.  
  
And Iwaizumi had noticed.  
  
Every quirk and bug, every up and down, everything that made Oikawa _Oikawa_ , was depending on Iwaizumi’s ability to find them, to appreciate them, to hold them close, because one day they could very well be gone.  
  
Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.  
  
He was beautiful in his slender fingers twining and wringing together nervously as he confessed his feelings kept for twelve and a half years.  
  
He was beautiful in his blush-tainted cheeks as he kissed Iwaizumi’s cheek.  
  
He was beautiful in his puffy lips, swollen from pressing kisses.  
  
He was beautiful in his warm tongue as it poked past his lips, hanging out tantalizingly for Iwaizumi to see.  
  
He was beautiful in his chest moving as erratic as his breathing as he lay sprawled on the pale sheets of his bed, beneath the only person who’d been there all along.  
  
He was beautiful when he was sleeping, tucked firmly under a strong arm, looking perhaps more like an angel than he did when conscious, and he was beautiful even when he wasn’t, though everyone wished he was.  
  
Iwaizumi wasn’t quite sure how, or when, or why, but Oikawa had passed away while Iwaizumi was grocery shopping for the two of them. It wasn’t as if the authorities didn’t know, he had just been too numb to listen to what they had told him, let alone respond.  
  
But this Oikawa wasn’t the real one, Iwaizumi thought, through staring intently at the being in the coffin marked with his beloved’s name. His Oikawa would have immediately jumped at the sight of Iwaizumi falling to his knees, hardly recognizing the tears streaming down his face or the sobs racking through his entire body. His Oikawa would have hugged him and kissed all his tears away, not at rest until Iwaizumi was.  
  
He briefly thought that maybe, just maybe, he was right, at the cold, shaking hand at his shoulder. But as he saw the tear-struck face of Tooru’s mother, lips trembling almost as haphazardly as Hajime’s himself, reality sunk in. That was his Oikawa. There was no mistaking the all-too-familiar lips, the eyelashes that were so still you could count them, the pale, lifeless cheeks.  
  
Because Oikawa Tooru was beautiful.  
  
Oikawa Tooru _was_  beautiful.


End file.
